Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. It Happened So Fast By Robin Mills It happened so fast. A visit to the doctor. A diagnosis. A very quiet drive home, my mother, my father, my brother, and me. “I am so glad I just had my teeth cleaned” my mother said. Then six weeks later, just like the doctor said, it was over. Those six weeks were the fastest and the slowest. At first, she was awake, up, not in bed. She sat in her comfortable chair. We gathered around, talked, shared. Soon, she was tired, too tired. She got in bed. Initially sitting up, legs out, blankets over her legs, cats over the blankets. Then, soon again, she slid down, head on a pillow, blanket clutched up at her chin, cats on her stomach or riding the side of her body as…
Category: Sparks
Memorable writing that sparks imagination.
BEE-ING
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. BEE-ING By Su Shafer I have become a stone. A gemstone. Labradorite Or Moonstone maybe. No – an Orca Agate From the Earth, with an affinity with water. I am a stationary object. My unruly legs have taught me The power of stillness, How motionlessness invites presence In each moment. Today I watched a bee visit All the flowers in my patio planter. Her tender attention to each one The pollen pantaloons on her legs The song of her wings, Humming as she went from floret to floret Trailing in the air behind her as she flew off. Her busy work reminds me There are no small lives. I think of her and her sisters Bustling about in the hive, Content in their purposefulness. Unlike my quiet house There is no stillness in a…
I am
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. I am By Patricia Morris I am made of rich black soil that grows corn and soybeans and wheat and oats and vegetable gardens. I am made of love showered upon me by parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles. I am made of tallgrass prairies and mighty rivers. I am made of grief and loss. I am made of Midwestern college campuses, of thick gray and dark green law books. I am made of courtrooms and jails, prisons and government office buildings. I am made of curiosity and wanderlust, of courage and manners. I am made of blood and bone, atoms and molecules, hair and cartilage. I am made of brain synapses and aching joints, smiling eyes and laughing mouth. I am made of love. Who is this “I” I am describing? I learn in…
Stan and the Moon Shadow
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Stan and the Moon Shadow By Su Shafer It was THE SOLAR ECLIPSE DAY! When he got out of bed, the moon was moving in the sky. As it always was, of course, but with more excitement that day than usual. It was common place for the moon to be seen in the daytime, but today It would meet the sun face to face and wear its fiery crown, as The Earth looked on, far below. It was a big day for the moon, but for Stanley, not so much. Just another passing shadow added to a life Where everything was painted with a leaden umbra. When he opened his eyes, his room overflowed with a dull gloom More than darkness, as if the blackness in his dreams spilled Out of his…
The reason writers write
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Today’s Sparks is an excerpt from Sally A. Kilgore’s Blog, Daybits. Three years ago, I fed Bob Kilgore his breakfast and he hopped up in the kitchen window to sunbathe. I sat at the kitchen table with my cappuccino, wondering what we had done. We had uprooted from a place we’d been for close to twenty years, a shady place of green lawn, a hilly yard, and the comfort of good neighbors. We had decided to downsize our home and build something fresh and new while we were at it. So, I sat in the new kitchen with Bob, sunlight blazing in, a sodded backyard, boxes to be unpacked. Our home – Mildred – was an island in a construction zone, surrounded by mud, with a porta potty next door. We’d been deliriously happy, the house…
A Memorable Day
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. A Memorable Day By Cheryl Moore We had arrived in Mashad, a city in north east Iran, the night before. It is the site of the holy Shrine of Imam Ali Reza, the eighth Imam, a site where the followers of the Shi’a branch of the Islamic faith make pilgrimage. The mosque was a beautiful, gleaming white structure with four minarets, one at each corner. Women must cover up with a chador to enter. As I didn’t own one, I had to borrow one, but it only came to my midi-calf, not my ankles, as it did on Iranian women. My pale skin and blue eyes gave me away as a foreigner. I couldn’t just blend in. Before entering we had to take off our shoes and leave them outside on the steps. I hoped mine…
The Clicking of Heat
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. The Clicking of Heat By Robin Mills Lying in bed in the early hours of the day, I hear a clicking sound. I know what it is, but what it does is to throw me back to a previous home where the thermostat nudged the heat to come on, making a click clicking as it did. That for years served as my alarm clock. That nudging started the huge monster of a gravity fed heating system that lived in the basement of my 1926 craftsman bungalow. A furnace so large that two grown adults on either side, outstretched arms trying to hug it like a big tree, could not join hands around its massive body. Maybe braise fingertips at best. I had never encountered gravity fed air before. No moving parts. Just rising heat tumbling into…
Bittersweet
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Bittersweet by Lynn Levy Better If The Time Elapses Rapidly Stopping Weary Ennui’s Endless Tyranny Lynn Levy lives in Northern California with her husband, an overly familiar wild scrub jay called “Bubba,” and an enormous wisteria. She and the wisteria are in negotiations regarding ownership of the patio trellis.
My Pen Tonight
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. My Pen Tonight By Cheryl Moore My pen seems to have run out of words. Minutes tick by—tick, tick, tick But no matter how hard I try All starts dry up and say good-bye. When Cheryl Moore came to California in the early 1960’s, she realized she’d found her home. Moving to Petaluma in the 70’s, she was as close to paradise as she’d ever get. Travel has taken her to Europe and the Middle East. She has written on these memories as well as on the flora and fauna of the local river and her own garden. Chery’s writing has been published in “The Write Spot to Jumpstart Your Writing: Discoveries,” available from your local bookseller. Print and ebook available through Amazon. Also available through the Sonoma County Library system.
Jumpstart in Meter
Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Jumpstart in Meter By Ken Delpit I wonder if it makes good sense, to do Jumpstart in meter.I mean, what’s the point, masking oneself, like a blindfolded trick-or-treater?It all depends, I suppose, on the prompts that we are given.It could turn out to be mere folly, or crazier still, madness-driven. Marlene always says, “Just write,” so just write is what we will do.We will contemplate the prompts, one at a time, and stir them into our stew.Time will tell us, as our words spill out, no need to pre-distress.We’ll know soon enough if we’ve got a yummy meal, or just some metered mess. Prompt one says: What bothers me…, I don’t care…, I’m tired of dot-dot-dot.So, right away, we must gaze inward, and put ourselves on the spot-spot-spot.One thing that can be tiresome is overuse of…